StephanieJo
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If Frank had ever thought about it before, which he hadn't, he’d probably conclude he likes physical touch about as much as the average person does.
It’s not like he minds it when people touch him, especially since he’s kind of oblivious about personal space. He often ends up brushing up against people or dropping a hand to a shoulder or bumping into someone in the Pitt, and he doesn’t tend to think twice about it beyond a quick apology when needed.
(And maybe he does some of that on purpose, when it comes to one coworker in particular, but again, this isn’t something Frank has ever thought about, so he definitely doesn’t dwell on what that means.)
Bookmarked by StephanieJo
16 Jun 2026
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Samira has experience in the art of not being enough. She doesn’t think she can bear it when it comes to Jack Abbot. So—better safe than sorry.
Bookmarked by StephanieJo
14 Jun 2026
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“I love used books,” she proffers, eager to be a normal person. “I love when books have a story.”
“Well, I’d say if a book doesn’t have a story, it’s a pretty sad excuse for a book.”
Mel can’t help herself—she snorts. “I didn’t realize you owned the shop,” Mel says quickly, embarrassed. “That must be nice—”
“Yeah, it is,” Frank answers distractedly. “I’m sorry, I’m pretty sure I just saw two time Emmy award winning actress Mel King snort at a joke I made.”
So he really did know her, then, wow.
“Well I’m not sure anyone will believe you,” she jokes lightly.
“Yeah,” Frank breathes, his eyes roving over her face in a stunned sort of awe. “I don’t think anyone will.”
Or, the Kingdon Notting Hill AU :)
Bookmarked by StephanieJo
12 Jun 2026
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“You okay?” He asks softly.
Mel swallows and nods. “Yeah. I just—” Her voice catches and she laughs under her breath. “You’re— this is—”
“New?” He offers.
“Different. Good different.” She corrects, pushing a fallen hair away from Franks forehead. “Always good with you.”
Frank presses another kiss into her lips. “Good.”
Bookmarked by StephanieJo
29 May 2026
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Some nights were, naturally, worse than others.
Nights where Frank laid in bed for so long, staring at the ceiling, that it made his heart start to race with anxiety and his back ache and ache and ache no matter how he positioned himself. Nights where his thoughts spiraled out into worst-case-scenarios that seemed so vivid and inevitable that he would have to get up and go to the bathroom, just to turn the light on and look at himself in the mirror to remember what was actually real.
Those were the nights when he wanted the pills again the most: alone in his guest bedroom, trying to wring sleep out of his body like the last few drops of water out of a dirty dishcloth.
He tried not to call Mel on nights like that. He did not always succeed.
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Bookmarked by StephanieJo
21 May 2026